


Hunting the Hunter

by TriDom



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2015-09-03
Packaged: 2018-04-18 18:40:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4716467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriDom/pseuds/TriDom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter has never been accused of being anything but loyal to those he loves, and he loves no one more than he loves Chris Argent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hunting the Hunter

**Author's Note:**

> This is a shoot off if a longer one shot I'm writing that couldn't mesh with what I have. But the head canon is, Chris left Peter to get married and had Allison, being a good little Argent. But he is Peter's mate and they love each other. So excited for this one-shot! Anyway, this has to hold me over until I get it done. Lol

Peter stalked him. One day in freezing January, he tracked him like an animal. He used his computer, he used his phone, and he hunted Chris like prey.

He sat across the street from his home at 7:35 on a Thursday and watched him step out of a plain brick colonial, flanked by ones nearly identical, holding the hand of a dark-haired six year old. As he buckled her into the car seat, Peter watched Chris breath fog when he laughed at the little girl saying words he couldn’t hear.

He followed him to an elementary school school three miles away and watched Chris hug his daughter goodbye before she and her Pokemon backpack disappeared through heavy metal doors.

Then he followed Chris to a gas station and watched him walk inside. He followed moments later, hiding under the bill of his baseball hat and morning congestion. He listened to the deep rasp of his voice when he reached the counter under the tired clamor of others. He inhaled it with the smell of cheap burned coffee.

After, he followed him out of the suburbs and into a greenbelt where fog covered the freeway. He followed Chris’s taillights’ glow in the near dark until he turned off the highway.

Peter drove farther until he pulled off from the shoulder and into the hanging limbs of the cypress trees. He stripped off his clothes in the cold with the damp dead leaves beneath his feet before he shifted.

He tracked Chris at a lope, his skin richer than the adrenaline laced heart blood of terrified rabbits shaking in the underbrush.

He found him and watched from afar as Chris checked his snares with his rifle over his shoulder. His eyes cast Chris in a different palette. He barely contained a soft howl, a yip of longing as he lingered.

He thought Chris saw him once, when he looked back through the trees. His eyes looked white against his tan complexion. His fingers brushed the sling of his rifle before he dropped his hand, staring where Peter knew his gray coat was invisible again the dull world. He tried to not breathe until Chris’s pale eyes slid over him and away.

He followed Chris back through the trees, through the underbrush to where his SUV waited, already covered in dew. Chris opened the cargo door and water rained down against his dark resistant jacket before he laid the rifle in a hard case.

When he went to the drivers side door, his hand lingered on the handle as he stared at the ground. Then he cupped it to one side of his mouth and howled. Peter shifted in the brush, his ears flicking as he locked his muzzle against answering.

He remembered his shoulder pressed to Chris’s at the preserve as he taught him how to project his voice even with human lungs.

He watched Chris listen, then his shoulders dropped and he pulled open his door before he couldn’t help the soft answer that was more a whimper than a howl.

He watched him barely jump and his tail hardly swayed at startling him. He watched him scan the trees, keeping low in the tangles of growth.

"Peter?”

His voice was quiet and hopeful. Peter thought of stepping out, but he stayed where he was and watched the barely there hope around his eyes vanish.

Finally, Chris turned and pulled himself into the cabin of his truck. Peter watched him drive back down the trail until his lights were swallowed by the gloom.

He didn’t count on being the subject of a hunt in return. He didn’t expect to open the door of his hotel room by the airport and find Chris standing on the other side sometime between dinner and bed.

They stared for a moment, Chris’s eyes roaming his face and Peter only looking at the beautiful lightness of his eyes like a deer on the interstate.

“You should’ve answered me,” Chris said, Peter heard the barely there sway in his voice, but he heard the hitch his his pulse more clearly, smelled the salt and acidity when his eyes watered and turned red.

“I didn’t know what to say.”

"When have you ever had to say anything?” Chris asked, swallowing hard.

Then he closed the gap and put his arms around Peter’s neck with a shuddered breath. Peter cupped the back of his head, feeling his fuller body, smelling the richness that fatherhood had added to his scent.

They made love in his hotel bed where he could smell the lingering lust of others ground into the mattress despite the thread count of the sheets covering it. None of their smells compared to the sweet, grounded, earth of Chris’s skin. None of the faint noises beyond the well insulated walls compared to the noise Chris made when he eased him open with his tongue or pressed in to him from below.

He stared in Chris’s eyes in the bright room and held him closer. He made love to his hunter for the first time in nearly a year, Chris broke vows while he rocked down against him, breathed against his neck, and kissed him slowly.

Peter broke no promises. He had never promised his partners anything when it came to Chris. It didn’t count when being against him wasn’t an act of lust. Or even love, even when he felt it pressing under every inch of his skin and could nearly smell it in Chris’s sweat. It was purer than that. It was inevitable like the sweetness of rain falling against a wild fire finally abating. It was acidic and refreshing, scorched earth, and the promise of new growth. He held Chris’s hips just enough to feel the way he rolled them down and pressed up just to watch his eyes glaze.

When they laid together after, Peter felt no apology and smelled none. Chris didn’t offer to make everything right or make him swear never to do it again.

“Allison just turned six,” he said.

"I know,” Peter said, smiling softly.“She’s beautiful. She’s the spitting image of you.”

He watched Chris smile and his heart ached.

“When she’s old enough that they can’t turn her against me, I’m going to find you.”

"I know,” Peter said quietly as Chris touched under his eye and back across his cheek.

"I love you.”

“I love you too,” he said just as honestly, just as open and broken hearted as he looked down the barrel of twelve years more if not longer.

He took Chris’s hand and kissed the palm then up to each of his fingers, already counting the months until he would be consumed and have to track and hunt his love again.


End file.
